


It takes and it takes and it

by spaceleviathan



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceleviathan/pseuds/spaceleviathan
Summary: Luke has been waiting for Biggs to do something drastic





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clockworkclown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkclown/gifts).



> I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE

Luke had been waiting for Biggs to do something drastic. He had been since he knew he wasn’t getting the academy alongside his best friend, nor with Tank; knew by the scowl on uncle Owen’s face when he’d suggested it, and the hasty glance away when Luke had looked to Aunt Beru for support. “C’mon,” he’d begged to them, and then relayed their refusal back to his friends. He hadn’t expected much from any of them, except Biggs. He’d expected something from Biggs.

“You have to help me get out of here,” Luke had told him, grabbing his hand, looking up at him, making his voice soft. “Please.”

“I’d miss you,” Biggs had replied, without sadness or wistfulness. He sounded, Luke hoped beyond hope, like a man with a plan. The more sensible of the two, it would usually be Biggs who’d figure it out, but Luke had already set his own plan in motion. It was up to Biggs to put the last piece in place.

“Think about what it’d be like,” Luke had mentioned, not just to his closest friend, but to others in their pack, mostly Tank who sat and grinned at thoughts of his future, with or without Luke in it. Biggs was never far, frowning and brooding, and hopefully plotting. Luke knew he needed to encourage whatever thoughts were brewing, so demanded to see him every day (“We don’t have long left!”) and made each day count.

Aunt Beru had been waiting for a while, even longer than Luke had, with a tense sort of excitement. Uncle Owen viewed the whole business with his usual level of nonchalance, but Luke knew that if he felt any real distain it would be vocal and _final_. Any talk of the academy was shot down before Luke could draw half a breath. _“Maybe next season.”_ Talks of Biggs were met with half-sighs and an unusually quiet acceptance.

“You’ll get there,” Aunt Beru promised, whenever Luke came home sun-bathed and deflated, wondering whether he was doing something wrong. Why it was taking so long. What Biggs thought he was doing.

Because he’d still left, despite Luke’s best, despite the fact everyone on their world knew what Luke was waiting for.

Luke had been at Tosche Station longer than he needed to, anticipating Biggs, and hesitated to approach him when he arrived. He was dressed smartly, ready to take on the universe, and Luke wanted to follow him to whichever distant star their spaceship pointed. Suddenly, overwhelmed and desperate, hid behind a corner, feeling his life fall around his feet. Biggs, of course, found him.

“You’ll be late,” Luke snapped, a hand on his face, trying to breathe, trying to hold himself together.

Biggs’ eyes flickered to the platform, then to Luke, and held out a hand. Luke took it, then the other, and could feel his best friend’s pulse through their interlinked palms.

“Luke,” Biggs said, and took a step closer, and they were always like this; close enough to touch, inseparable and intimate, and Luke was terrified of losing this comfort and this safety.

“I’d miss you,” Luke whispered, breathy and almost unspoken. Biggs leaned close, pressing his forehead to Luke’s, drew their hands closer to their chests, took a deep breath. He smiled, and Luke couldn’t stop staring at the neat lines of his teeth, the straightness of his nose, the darkness of his eyes. Strange little things he hadn’t noticed before, and wondered when he’d see again. That is, assuming Biggs didn’t do something drastic that’d save the day; let Luke run away with him, allow them to stay together, and stay safe and stay happy. Something big and loud and permanent. Like propose. Like _right now_.

“I’ll be late,” Biggs said instead, and left Luke alone on their miserable planet. Luke had waved, had even managed to smile for his friends, but his aunt had hugged him and his uncle had tutted, and Luke had been let off chores for the day as if an apology.

-

They’d known each other for years, and in between then and now there had been childhood crushes and adolescence love crises, and at the centre of teenage drama and cliques and work had been Luke and Biggs, Biggs and Luke, and Luke had fallen in love with him somewhere along the way, and Biggs had loved Luke, but they were still young and there was still time, until there wasn’t, and Biggs was gone and Luke couldn’t follow.

-

It had come to be expected, much to the consternation of the senior Darklighter, but even Biggs’ father couldn’t find a fault with Luke, except he wasn’t from a well-to-do family. However, that meant little on a planet that favoured only hard-working land-owners. Uncle Owen had his farm, and Luke would eventually inherit it whether he wanted it or not, and whilst his priorities were not as solidly rooted in the sand as his uncle would like, no one could accuse Luke of not earning his keep. He’d said, one too many times, “I can’t race,” “I can’t see you,” “I can’t get out today,” because “My uncle needs me,” or “we’re coming up to the harvest,” or “We’re short-handed this season.”

He wasn’t a bad kid, despite his fanciful dreams of leaving and seeing somewhere new, but that careless lust for adventure could only be matched by that of Biggs Darklighter’s, and ultimately even their family knew it was only inevitable.

Biggs knew it, and could see Luke trying to push it along. It had surprised his parents, when they’d asked whether Luke had applied, that he was not going to the academy this year. His father had looked at him expectantly, ignored Biggs’ answer, and asked plainly, “Are you to marry before or after you both graduate?”

Biggs didn’t know what to say then, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, unsure of how to formulate that he wasn’t sure whether he’d ask at all. He wanted to, because he loved Luke Skywalker from the top of his golden hair to the tips of his scuffed boots, and couldn’t imagine the academy, or his home, or his future without him. But Luke was gentle, half-isolated in the desert and full of youth, and sorely lacking in experience. Biggs wasn’t much different. They were only children, even at the very brink of adulthood, and Biggs didn’t want to leap without looking across an eternal crevice neither of them had actually discussed.

His father had understood, but not without disappointment. Had a follow-up question, which proved to be another Biggs could not answer. “What are you going to tell him?”

The answer was nothing at all.

-

Biggs had come back, with the pretence that it was to say goodbye, but he’d hoped to impart some sort of guidance into Luke’s life. So much had changed, from his goals to his understanding of the universe, to the way their society was structured and how it would ultimately be destroyed. He’d argued with his father, and was anticipating an argument from Luke. He found, instead, a boy willing to face whatever direction Biggs pointed him in, so long as they could be together.

Luke, when Biggs first saw him, seemed impossible. He was so small, with icy blue eyes and a contagious grin, and Biggs couldn’t stop touching him. Shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, a hand on his arm, a touch down his back, and Luke was as animated as always, but sad underneath.

“I didn’t come back just to say goodbye,” he’d said, and didn’t mean it to sound that way. Luke’s eyes were alert, focused, anticipatory. He wasn’t here to take Luke with him. Not this time. Nonetheless, Biggs can’t stop smiling, and he’s starting to ask himself _why not_.

He offered his hand, and Biggs couldn’t hold it for long, because this was a strange, impersonal shake, like a colleague wishing him luck. The coldness of the gesture wasn’t swayed by his soothing words, “You’ll always be the best friend I’ve ever had,” because Biggs wasn’t, and wouldn’t. Biggs was meant to be Luke’s, entirely and beautifully, and instead Biggs was leaving him behind all over again. Biggs had wanted to ask him, a hundred times in conversation alone; throw himself at Luke and beg him to disregard his uncle, come with Biggs then and there, or tell Luke to refuse to let go and keep Biggs here on this god-forsaken hellhole of a planet. But there were bigger things at stake now, a galaxy in turmoil and an empire ready to be overthrown, and Luke was not a part of it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He still couldn’t resist one last look, and saw Luke staring after him, wishing desperately for everything they could have had.

-

If Biggs survived, he’d ask and he’d apologise. He’d drop to both knees and kiss Luke’s hands, and make Luke laugh, and laugh himself silly. He promised he would. He showed his fellow rebels the pictures of Luke he’d kept, with his sand-swept hair and bright eyes in tanned skin, of Luke scowling, of Luke howling with joy. He told them, “Look at him. I’m going to marry him.” They were going to build a business, a life, a home.

And then Luke showed up where he shouldn’t have been, like a miracle, hot on the heels of the princess of the rebellion. He was ablaze with victory, and had somehow defeated more odds in one mission than all of Biggs’ achievements put together. He was to be known as a hero, as a great man, as the only one who could save them all. Biggs compared him to the boy in his pictures, and could hardly see the resemblance.

Until Luke spotted him in the crowd, amid all the strange faces of people he’d never met. Biggs felt the delight, the disbelief, and then those comforting familiar arms wrapped around him like they should be, handshakes gone to hell, and bodies pressed close together where they belonged. He would have asked then and there, propriety be damned, war be damned, odds be damned, but Luke’s hands were in his hair, and he pressed their lips firmly together, and Biggs couldn’t find a breath to spare.

-

Biggs died for freedom, and Luke couldn’t save him. He’d hold off any bereavement until after everything had settled. Until Leia had established their safety on another desolate planet, where the only difference from Luke and Biggs’ home-world was temperature. Until even Han was wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

“You’ve been through so much,” Leia told him sadly, as if her loss hadn’t also been astronomical.

“Yeah,” Luke replied, but couldn’t settle down to grieve just yet. The tragedy was only just beginning, and there was so much more to come.

**Author's Note:**

> *Sniffs  
> I really like these kids guys


End file.
